


Tell Me Something Good

by MoonSpoon



Category: Lackadaisy (Webcomic)
Genre: Interrogation, M/M, Violence, angry make outs, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonSpoon/pseuds/MoonSpoon
Summary: Dom questions Wes about the Marigold Room
Relationships: Wes Clyde/Dominic "Dom" Drago
Kudos: 3





	Tell Me Something Good

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. This one is just horny. That's literally it. I got really into this ship a while back and thought I'd contribute a little to it. Anyway, I am recovering from covid, so I won't be posting for a bit. Happy Holidays!

Dom sighed before tossing down his pen and leaning back to pop a crick out of his neck. Three in the morning, a new record for him. If he stayed up any later, he’d lose the trail he’d been building completely. His head was pounding with exhaustion that coffee wouldn’t ease, his arms felt so heavy that even sorting documents felt like too much work. The whole precinct was quiet, save for the occasional mumble from the holding cells or a cough from one of the unlucky night-shift flatfoots. The idea of just falling asleep on his desk then and there almost didn’t seem like the worst idea. The office was warm and quiet enough, and the idea of walking home in the cold night air was less than appealing, especially with the rise in fall down drunks in the area. 

The old copper pipes radiated heat, and rumbled pleasantly, the only noise he’d heard that wasn’t an insult from some crook or drunk downstairs. The metallic lullaby had become a familiar comfort to him, and the more the listened to their slow murmurs, the more he came to terms that it was time for him to call it a night and stumble home for a short rest in the old apartment he’d been stashed in for this assignment. 

But he still had one more thing to take care of. He wished he hadn’t been so absorbed in paperwork that he’d left it until he could barely even think straight, but he figured this was one thing he could leave until tomorrow. He could give half a dash of effort now and come back with a fresh mind the next day. Dom stretched, shoulders popping audibly. He twisted slightly in his chair before turning it to face the corner and straddling it. 

“I’m too tired for bullshit, Wes.” He sighed, rubbing a paw over his face. “Wanna do me a favor and tell me a thing or two about the Marigold?” 

Wes Clyde took a moment to disguise his own exhaustion as passive coolness that fooled no one. Dom had brought him in almost twelve hours ago for interrogation after he’d bitten his arresting officer and kicked another in the face. It wasn’t the first time he’d been brought in since Dom had started working the Marigold. It wouldn’t be the last given his prickly attitude and strong right hook. But Wes’s tendency to get arrested over the stupidest things made him a regular for Dom, who had grown accustomed to having him in the office now and again. It was a nice change from the usual silence that surrounded him when he was working. Perhaps it wasn’t the healthiest to favor abuse over solitude, but that was a whole different issue he didn’t feel like working on. 

“Tell you what, give me something useful and maybe I’ll think about moving you into the cells downstairs instead of leaving you here overnight.” 

Wes sat up a little, rolling his shoulders. His shirt had ripped in the scuffle to get him back into his chair for the third time, when Dom had stopped giving a rat’s ass about being careful. There was a new scar forming just above his chest, and a few bruises that were setting in a deep purple shade. Dom forced his gaze elsewhere. The last thing he needed to give Wes right now was more incentive to hurl insults at him. 

“I think I wanna head home.” Wes said absently. Dom snorted, which earned him a tired glare. “I’m not telling you shit, I never do, so uncuff me and let me go.” 

“Literally, anything will do.” Dom said as he leaned back. “A name, a location, even the type of liquor the club serves.” 

Wes raised an eyebrow blankly. “Liquor? Drago.....that’s illegal.” 

“So is biting a cop.” 

There was silence for a moment as Dom gave Wes a moment or two to shake the exhaustion form his clouded mind enough to answer with his usual mean-spirited wit. It was more entertaining this way, and if Dom was going to be awake at this most ungodly hour, he was at least going to get a chuckle out of it. 

“The Marigold.” Dom said again. “Tell me about it.” 

“Pretty flower. You know they're edible?” 

“Christ...” Dom muttered, rubbing his eyes more in frustration this time. “I’ll make you a deal. Tell me something, one thing, and I’ll undo your cuffs.” 

Immediately, Wes’s face split into a wide grin that Dom just knew came with a side of trouble. The last time he’d seen that grin, he’d gotten a rather impressive right hook to the jaw. But he was confident enough that Wes was too tired to try anything to the usual degree of stupidity. He reached over into his desk drawer, pulling out a small key which he sarcastically held up for Wes to have a good look at before placing it in the front pocket of his sweater. 

“Tell me something good, Wes.” Dom said. 

Wes thought for a moment, and Dom found himself half hoping the promise of some hint of freedom would be enough to entice him. It couldn’t be comfortable sitting like that. The third time Wes had made a mad dash for the exit, Dom had been forced to get rough, dealing a few punches to subdue before managing to cuff one paw to the arm of a chair. It had taken several more struggling, violent, moments to get his other arm strapped down, and neither of them had come away from the scuffle unscathed. Dom’s eyes flicked to the torn shirt again, to the scratch he’d left beneath the loose fabric. He did wonder if that scar would set as a reminder for Wes to mind his manners. 

Wes finally shrugged, handcuffs clinking at the movement. “Ok. Maybe I do know a thing or two.” 

“Things you’d like to share?” 

“Things that people wouldn’t like getting out.” 

“Enlighten me.” 

“Bring that key a little closer and maybe I will.” 

Dom sighed, but obliged. He tiredly got to his feet and dragged his chair a little closer, before settling back down, his knees barely brushing against Wes’s. He sat back in the chair, arms folded across his chest, the cold metal key chilling through the thick wool of his sweater. He didn’t mind the closeness, it only meant he could probably get away with slapping Wes upside the head if he got too cheeky. 

“You want to know about the Marigold?” 

Dom shrugged and gestured for him to continue, the hope that maybe Wes would say something useful already slipping away. 

“I’m not even one of the guys who could tell you a damn thing.” Wes said with a wink. “The guys you pick up and rough around? We don’t know shit. You know I went on three different runs last month and I couldn’t tell you what I was doing there or who I was supposed to talk to. I turn up, someone I don’t look twice at passes me some cargo or the buck if I’m unlucky, and I go home and fuck around until some Dick like yourself drags me off to knock around when his cases aren’t going the way he wants.” 

Dom snorted, shaking his head. It wasn’t as useless as Wes was probably hoping, and Dom was certain he could figure out a way to work it into his investigation in the next coming weeks. However, it wasn’t what he was hoping for. Maybe he’d been foolish to think Wes would cave and give him some names if it meant going home for the night, but he was tired and the lines between rationality and stupidity were starting to blur the longer he stayed up bothering the gangster. 

“So, you’re telling me you’re just an overdressed stooge with a bad attitude?” 

“Well, when you put it like that, you make me sound like an ass.” Wes said, tugging a bit at his cuffs again. “Personally, I think I add a much-needed dramatic flair to the joint.” 

Dom chuckled and took the key out again. Wes’s yellow eyes brightened immediately. The moment the cuff unlatched, Wes was pulling his paw free, flexing it with a wince. His other paw remained bound tightly to the arm of the chair, but there was still a chance or two for Dom to be convinced to free that one too. 

“Undo the other one, Drago.” Wes demanded. 

“Ask me real nice.” Dom shot back. “Or tell me something good.” 

“I told you what you needed, it ain’t my fault if you you’re too stupid to pick it up.” 

“You weren’t lying about the drama.” Dom said, tucking the key back into his pocket. “And you sure do get mean when you’re not getting your way. Maybe you need to sleep it off and you’ll be nicer in the morning.” 

He almost stood up to leave before he felt the sharp pinch of claws digging into his arm. Teeth bared in mid-snarl, Wes almost yanked him back down before Dom twisted his arm out of the tired grip and snatch the offending paw back up. He pushed forwards, free paw grabbing Wes right under the jaw and forcing his head upwards at an uncomfortable, blinding angle. He was unusually warm for someone who’d spent twelve hours in the coldest corner of the office. Dom couldn’t stop himself from brushing a thumb against the exposed throat in mild interest, wondering if it was all that anger that was making him so hot blooded. 

“Do I need to cuff you again?” He asked calmly. 

Wes made a noise between a grunt and a snarl, that Dom chose to take as a “no.” He let go, making sure to slap him upside the head before taking a seat again. The grin Wes had worn so sleazily before had vanished, and he now sat there barely suppressing a sulk. They said nothing as Dom put a large portion of his attention on making himself pretend his arm wasn’t throbbing where Wes had grabbed him. He could feel small droplets starting to seep into his fur. 

“You want to go, you can tell me a little more about the Marigold.” 

“You said-” 

“-That I’d undo the cuffs if you told me what I need to know. Did you tell me what I wanted to know, or did you ramble on for a bit like some diva?” 

Wes bit the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing in annoyance and nose flaring with silent anger. It was now 3:21 in the morning, and Dom wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed for at least a few days, but Wes was pissed. Pissed and desperate enough that he may just cough something up if it meant getting out. It was either that or spend the night chained up. 

“You’re a lot more annoying than the other cops.” Wes muttered, biting his already split lip. Dom hoped it stung. “I told you all I can. I don’t know what else you want. Just let me go home and maybe I’ll commit enough petty crime next week to be able to give you something then.” 

“You’ll give me something now, or you’re staying.” Dom said firmly. 

Wes rolled his eyes, head tilting back as he snarled in frustration. Immediately Dom found himself glancing at the broad column of his throat, briefly thinking that perhaps if he had his paw wrapped around it again, Wes might be more cooperative. He really was all talk, and he seemed perfectly happy to shut up and start behaving again once Dom had him gasping for breath. Dom shook his head at the idea and refocused on giving Wes the best stare down he could offer at this ungodly hour. 

Wes leaned forward, chin resting in his one free paw as he stared right back at Dom, that familiar waggish glint return to his eyes, and his teeth as another smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. Dom wasn’t sure if he should feel annoyed or worried. 

“What the hell are you staring at, Drago?” 

Dom didn’t bother to answer. It was just another aggressive prod, an attempt to make him react. If he was going to stay up, he needed to save his energy. 

“You think I haven’t noticed that?” Wes asked again. “That’s what-the third time you’ve looked me up and down like that. You like what you see or something?” 

“Not at all. I’m just wondering how much longer you can stand to sit there in rags and waste my time and yours.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s why you’ve had me tied up in your office for all night.” 

“You bit a cop. What was I supposed to do?” 

"Well, you really seemed to like slapping me around a bit. Wanna give that another shot?” 

“Nice try. You’re the one who started that fight, I just finished it.” 

Wes leaned forward a little further, scooting his chair forwards as best as the remaining handcuff would allow. The cocky tilt of his mouth was frustrating. Wes was acutely aware of something, and clearly wasn’t about to share it. He just wanted to put on a show, and Dom couldn’t help but wonder why he was still sitting here watching it. 

“Maybe I’m looking to start up again.” Wes said coolly. 

Dom frowned as he tried to find his footing in the exchange. He’d be the first to shamefully admit, it had been a while since he’d had a plain conversation, even with a criminal. He was always working, always buried in some new lead or clue, he sometimes forgot how to sort out the normal dance of a simple discussion. The gears in his mind turned as Wes toed the line of interest and irritation, torn shirt shifting in a way that could not have been an accident. He was close enough for his legs to brush lightly against Dom’s. 

It clicked. 

Dom glanced down at the leg currently resting ever so slightly against his own, then back up into the yellow eyes that were locked onto his. Half-lidded, and suddenly not as hate filled as they had been mere minutes ago, such a look would have worked like a charm if Dom hadn’t still been thinking about choking him again for being so annoying. He sighed, shaking his head. So, this is how the night would end. 

“I know you’re not coming onto me right now.” Dom said, cocking an eyebrow. 

“I'm just sitting here.” Wes answered. 

“You realize charm is required for this to work right? And that’s something you’ve proven quite a few times you don’t have.” 

“I’m better with my hands.” Wes said, inching a little closer. “And I’m really a lot better when I have both of them.” 

“Hmm. I’m think I’m going to have to add bribing a federal agent to your file.” 

“Oh no, what are you gonna do? Arrest me?” 

Wes was mere inches away from him now. Dom couldn’t lie to himself, there was a part of him that was incredibly curious to see what Wes was going to do next, and another similar part desperately wanted a reason to slam him against the closest available surface. That urge sent fierce shivers down his back that he barely managed to hide. Wes smelled like whiskey and the chilly night air outside. He radiated heat. His mouth was close enough to try something that would get them both into a lot of trouble. 

Dom’s paw came up just in time to grasp what was left of Wes’s shirt collar, knuckles brushing his throat. For a moment, he was perfectly content just having Wes that close, breath warm against his mouth, heart pounding from sheer anticipation. Maybe it was because of how late it was, but he only just realized how long it had been since someone had been this close to him, looking at him in that way. 

“Quite the change in attitude, Wes.” Dom said in a low voice. “It’s almost as though you’re a little bit desperate.” 

“I can still bite if that sells it a little better.” 

Dom allowed Wes to kiss him. It was quick, gentle almost, like Wes was testing him. As soon as their lips met, Wes pulled away again, a hint of caution flickering in his eyes for a moment before Dom yanked him back and crushed their mouths together again. 

Of all the dishonest kisses Dom had shared in his life, this one was one of the most enjoyable. There was something about the fierceness of it that made Dom’s fur bristle. It was rough and riddled with impatience. The excitement simmering inside him finally boiled over. The paw gripping Wes’s shirt collar moved back under his jaw, holding him in place to keep him from getting too pushy and gaining the upper hand completely. The tightness of the hold only spurred Wes on, however. Wes used his limited freedom to practically climb into the agent’s lap and nip warningly at his lower lip with growl that almost threw all caution to the wind. 

Dom almost bit him back before rationality reminded him instead to hold back and remember that this was all a game, no matter how nice it felt. And Dom hated to lose. 

He pulled away before Wes could try and snap at him again and instead latched onto his neck. The gasp he earned for his effort was well worth it. He moved quickly, tongue flicking out against a sweet spot that brought forth a barely contained yelp from Wes. The handcuffs clinked as the movement from the two strained the thin links. Dom felt Wes shudder and shift closer to him, paw snaking up his chest, claws out and raking carelessly over his sweater, tearing the thread past repair. That paw kept moving. It wasn’t as eager as their teeth and lips. It was patient and creeping. It was subtle enough, so Dom almost missed it when it slipped into his front pocket, grasping for a key he thought they’d both forgotten about. 

It all happened so quickly Dom could have kicked himself. He’d been stupid. He’d been distracted. 

Wes had snatched the key back before Dom could catch him. He tore himself out of Dom’s arms in a split second and kicked out hard. Dom cried out in pain as a shoe connected with his chest. It wasn’t enough to hurt anything but his pride, but it certainly did the job of providing Wes the space he needed to unlock himself and dash out of the chair before Dom could pounce on him. Dom struggled to his feet, grabbing the discarded handcuffs and managed to reach the door before Wes could, driving him back towards the center of the office. 

His mouth still burned from the kiss, but his anger was a lot hotter. It had been years since anyone had gotten the drop on him like that. He prided himself on being two steps ahead of anyone he spoke to, but here some small-time criminal could trick him by flashing a torn shirt and a seedy grin. Dom could admit to falling for it, but that didn’t mean he was going to let Wes get away. 

He ducked under the punch Wes threw at him and answered with one sharp jab of his own. It landed against Wes’s exposed side and staggered him. The next blow was one across the cheek, then another to the stomach. Anything to keep him gasping and struggling to stand. Anything to teach him a lesson. He missed the next punch and barely managed to dodge claws raking down his face. He grabbed the outstretched arm and tugged it forwards, bringing Wes with it. 

What he’d said had been the truth, Wes wasn’t leaving the office that night, and no amount of screaming, cursing, or groping would convince Dom otherwise. 

Grabbing the discarded handcuffs from the desk, he dragged the struggling gangster back to the corner. The chair had been broken when Wes dove out of it, so he made do with what he could. Wes was cursing him so badly he was surprised the night shift boys didn’t come running to see what the fuss was, but O’malley was still on the clock, and he probably was still sore about Wes biting him and didn’t care what happened. Dom threw Wes down hard onto the floor and straddled him as quickly as he could, grabbing one of the offending paws before it could punch him again. 

The sound of Wes’s sleeve ripping as his arm was forced above his head was almost funny. Dom shoved his paw into the handcuff and looped the chain quickly around the old copper pipe. Pain exploded all over as he worked. Wes’s free paw was landing blow after blow across his torso until Dom reached down and grabbed it, shoving it above his head with the other. 

The click of the cuffs locking signaled the end of the tussle. Wes gave a loud snarl of fury, bucking and twisting underneath Dom. Metal clanged against metal as Wes fought harder than he had at any point that night. But it was now almost four in the morning, and he simply didn’t have the strength to throw the agent off of him. He resolved to lying there, useless and completely bedraggled, breath coming in short gasps so harsh that Dom could feel each and every shuddering breath. 

When silence fell, and Wes finally seemed ready to be spoken to civilly again, Dom sat back, taking a moment to smooth his hair away from his face. His sweater was torn, and Wes had left quite a few bruises on him not just with fists, but with his mouth as well. He was lucky Wes had a reputation to snap at people, otherwise he’d be getting a few strange looks. He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt Wes deflate exhaustedly beneath him. 

“Well....” He said, against his better judgement. “If there’s nothing else-?” 

He was cut off when Wes snarled and jerked suddenly, slamming his knee up into Dom’s back and pitching him forwards. Dom barely caught himself, but still found himself nose to nose with Wes, who was absolutely seething. 

“If there’s nothing else.” Dom said, much more firmly. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He got off him, evading Wes’s attempts to trip him up or cause some final form of damage before he was left completely alone for the night, but they both knew they were too tired to start anything more. Dom grabbed his coat, tugging it on and frowning as he remembered how chilly it was outside and how much walking home in a torn sweater would annoy him. But it was his own fault. If he’d walked away fifteen minutes ago instead of spending so much time thinking about Wes trapped against him, he’d have been home by now, probably sound asleep and not bruised and battered and sore. He’d suffer the consequences that came with his own foolishness if he learned his lesson from it. 

“Goodnight, Wes.” He called over his shoulder. 

A cacophony of cursing answered him, but he was already halfway down the stairs.


End file.
